Deep into the silent night, the waterclock marked each relentless quarter hour.
Summer’s imminent arrival had warmed the season’s chill. Within the secluded chamber, braziers no longer burned – only a few candlestands remained lit, flames wavering bright and tranquil.
Bathed under restless firelight, Xie Wuyan wore a fur-lined robe as he sat reviewing documents before the writing desk. Wide sleeves fell back, revealing a slender wrist when he lifted his brush to dash off annotations, frown subtly knitting his brow. Now and then muted coughs would seize his frame.
The entrance creaked open, ushering in the night breeze.
Donning close-fitting martial attire, the girl strode briskly inside with spear in hand. Gathering heavy silken tresses in one careless motion, she plopped down casually beside him. Candle glow spilled over from behind, tracing her lithe, delicate outline.
“How are things progressing?” he asked without glancing up, still flipping through papers.
She grabbed a roll of white linen and began leisurely wrapping up the spearshaft. “Progress is smooth enough. The White Pole gang remains Elder Gong’s strongest foothold in the martial world. These past days I’ve led the Northern Beggars to raid several of their bases across the region. With Xie Zhiyuan confined and unable to leave the palace, they’ve lost direction. It didn’t take long for us to seize territory.”
Her frown returned. “Though the White Pole chieftains themselves escaped, doubtlessly with covert support from the Imperial Guards.”
“The court has been fiercely split these days over military intervention in Huainan,” he murmured, eyes never leaving the documents before him. “Likely Elder Gong can barely manage affairs of state, much less worry about power struggles within the martial world. These delayed battlefield reports also reek of deliberate sabotage by officers on site…”
He sighed. “With eunuch observers impeding his command, I fear the General faces great difficulties pushing the campaign forward.”
Xie Wuyan’s creased brow smoothed slightly. “Opposition to this deployment runs too strong. He has no choice but to tread cautiously despite the impediments…truly an arduous undertaking.”
“You’ve gone without proper rest again these many days,” she said gently. “It took such effort just to improve your health this much – continuing like this will only hinder recovery.”
“I’m fine,” he insisted, stifling another harsh cough. But noting her skeptical look made him concede with a quiet laugh, “Well…I do feel a little worn out presently.”
“Take a few days’ reprieve once immediate affairs are settled. It’ll be your birthday soon,” he added, spreading out a sheet of fine stationery paper with a flourishing stroke of his brush. “Let me take you somewhere fun, how about that?”
“Can’t believe you still remember,” she chuckled wryly. “Life has been far too hectic lately…even I’d nearly forgotten about my own birthday!”
“I want to celebrate properly with you this time.” He curled an arm around her shoulders, holding her close against him as he continued dashing off lines one-handed on the paper. Tilting down, he dropped a quick kiss atop her hair. “Forget everything else, just like old times.”
“We won’t be the Crown Prince and Princess that day. Let’s simply be Zhu Zi’an and Little Man of the River again – does that sound good?”
“That sounds wonderful,” she whispered, nestling contentedly into his loose embrace.
The seasonal rains following summer’s advent marked the start of xiaoman – the plentiful season…
Among the days of a year, none were better suited than this crossing between spring and summer: neither hot nor cold, fruit perfectly ripe on the branch. Plum rain nourished new growth to verdant splendor while apricot pits swelled luscious within green fruit only just formed, even as the last of the red date blossoms drifted away. Not too much yet not too little – perfectly balanced.
After the first summer showers, flourishing foliage burst over the garden. Outside the west-wing chambers, wild roses bloomed in vibrant disarray. Their vibrant silhouettes danced beneath butterflies’ ephemeral wings, fluttering amidst glistening dewdrops. A slash of crimson paused before carved floral lattice work framing the windows, placing something down with a sharp ‘tap!’.
Hearing the sound, the girl within glanced up and approached the ledge. From a slender bamboo cylinder she withdrew a thin sheet of birch bark parchment, angling it toward sunlight beams to read:
An excerpt had been boldly copied atop in swirling calligraphy:
“Southern winds herald spring with breath of life
New mulberry leaves feed silkworms’ endless strife”
Flipping it over, the reverse simply held several characters penned by Zheng Eryi: ‘Xiaoman blessings for lasting health and peace.’
Each year on her birthday she would receive such missives from him – the poetry snippet changed, yet the heartfelt wishes remained eternal.
With a quiet smile she leaned out toward the empty vista, craning over the trellised window. As chance would have it the concealed figure happened to turn at that precise instant, meeting her gaze through latticed roses. Mirth lit his eyes and he reached through drifting petals to gently tuck back a stray strand of hair beside her cheek. Leaning in, he stole a dizzying kiss amidst the tumbling flower rain.
Moments later he vaulted smoothly through the window to land inside her chamber. Tugging open the collar of his robes, he shucked off the outermost crimson layer and flung it carelessly atop a nearby rack. Then spinning her about, he pressed both hands down on the dressing table, leaning close with sudden intensity. “Disguise first.”
He bent toward her, icy fingertips trailing lightly over browbone and eyelids, down both cheeks. After several deft strokes he moved behind the chair, plucking out her hairpiece – a red jade pin clasped lightly between his teeth – to free up both hands and begin styling her hair.
From the reflective sheen of a nearby bronze mirror she watched him work. Whenever engrossed in something, his features would sharpen into firm lines – sculpted nose perfectly straight beneath eyes intensely focused, full lips pressed into a taut line.
“You’re rather late today,” she commented lazily.
He made a sound halfway between amusement and annoyance. “Got waylaid by some Ministry Supervisor who refused to stop yammering about restoring the ancestral imperial tombs. I can barely stay on top of military and state affairs, let alone waste effort fretting over that! Thankfully Eldest Brother came to my rescue.”
With a few swift motions he twisted her thick mane atop her head into an elegant knot and slid the jade pin at a rakish angle to finish. Dusting his hands off, he declared “There, all done.”
In no time at all they had slipped over the surrounding walls and were headed toward Flourishing Fortune Borough. The lively din of marketplace calls and delectable food aromas swirled thickly about them – lacquered carriages vied cheek-by-jowl down avenues flush with embroidered silks and chattering crowds. At the roadside, peddlers’ carts wafted fragrant steam buns and fried pastries through the busy streets.
“Master Zhu! Long time no see! Brought another friend today?” A foodseller beamed brightly at them. “The usual two cherry stuff buns as always?”
With the girl tucked cozily under his arm, Zhu Zi’an returned a polite nod and faint smile. “This is my wife you see. Same order please, two of your excellent stuffed buns.”
The bustling seller busied himself crisping up a fresh batch while keeping up affable chatter. “Haven’t seen you for some time, Master Zhu! Went and got yourself hitched in the meanwhile eh! Since you’ve been a loyal patron all these years, buns are on the house today – consider it our felicitations!”
“You are far too kind. Our deepest thanks.” Zhu Zi’an bowed in return, accepting the piping-hot packet of buns. Breaking one open, he held it up to his companion’s lips, grinning at her instinctive smile from inhaling the tantalizing aroma.
Dusk rays set the winding streets aglow, spilling warmth over the lamp-lit food stalls.
They wandered familiar byways hand-in-hand on that balmy summer eve, greeting old acquaintances seemingly encountered only yesterday down roads oft traveled together lifetimes ago… Laughing through a lively busker show, trying their luck at various stall games, meandering peacefully along the canal-lined walkways hearkening to water burbling over ancient stone.
Leaving the borough behind, Zhu Zi’an brought them around a quiet corner toward the Eastern Tower winehouse. As luck had it, the little establishment had already closed shop for the night. Within, the usual clamor lay devoid of patrons – only the aged proprietor remained seated at his counter, totting up the ledgers.
Glancing up at their entry, he flapped a weary hand. “Shut for the night, no more wine selling!”
Zhu Zi’an immediately bowed deep. “Esteemed teacher! I’ve come to humbly request an exception on this special day of my lady wife’s birthday.”
At first the older man glowered, grumbling “Thought I said we’re through once you left this school! No more claiming me as your master!” Yet a heartbeat later his stern features softened into a resigned chuckle. “Oh let it be, just take a jar or two and think nothing of it. Drinks are on old Pops tonight.”
His mercurial temper aside, both disciples had long grown accustomed to his brusque affections by now. While Zhu Zi’an steered the girl toward selecting some wine, he settled casually atop the stacked stools – arms folded, gaze following her petite silhouette pensively.
“So she knows who you are now,” the low voice spoke up. “Finally started seeing her openly?”
“Mm-hmm.” Zhu Zi’an smiled faintly without turning. “Not much choice after she figured it out herself…”
His former teacher crossed the space between them with swift strides, catching hold of Zhu Zi’an’s wrist where it lay atop the table. Gently folding back voluminous sleeve layers revealed smooth skin stretched taut over fine bones. Pressing two fingertips down at the pulse point, Elder Du concentrated, sending out probing tendrils of energy to assess the obscured pathways running beneath.
Long moments later he released the outstretched hand. “Your condition seems to have improved remarkably. Did you finally discover appropriate treatment?”
“Indeed.” Zhu Zi’an gave a nearly imperceptible nod.
Elder Du exhaled heavily through his nostrils, a drawn sigh of profound relief. “After so many years barely clinging to the barest vestiges of hope…”
Regarding his once-disciple intently, the weathered face softened by a shade. “Even with medicine at last, the cumulative damage remains extensive still – you mustn’t overtax yourself,” he cautioned gravely. “The hours of zi* when frigid energies peak also pose the greatest peril. Take care to rest adequately indoors each night.”
He leaned forward insistently. “And remember always: your inner force shields the channels now. Never tap into it recklessly again.”
[*zi = period between 11PM-1AM]
“Understood.” With another slight dip of his chin in acquiescence Zhu Zi’an echoed softly, “You have my deepest gratitude, Elder.”
The stern-faced man huffed in annoyance. “What’s there to thank! How is it every year you only recall my existence here when it’s your birthday and you want free wine? Yet never think to visit your old teacher even once during Spring Festival!”
Just then Jiang Kui sidled back up cradling two ceramic jugs, and overheard the tail end of his tirade. She couldn’t resist muttering under her breath, “That’s because you barred him from meeting with me at all.”
Ruffling her hair contritely, Zhu Zi’an promised with a teasing grin, “Don’t worry, teacher. Next year I intend to personally drag my wife along so we may pay our respects together.”
Sweeping rivers of stars shone brilliantly overhead by the time they stepped back out of the tavern, jugs still looped securely in both arms. Scaling nimbly up nearby rooftops they sat shoulder-to-shoulder atop the peaked tiles, gazing out at winding streets below flickering with firefly lights beneath that endless celestial sea.
The mellow evening breeze carried faint hints of impending summer languor as Zhu Zi’an slowly grew tipsier from fragrant wine, its heady aroma wreathing his relaxed frame. Curled up cozily against him, the girl by his side had both cheeks tinged a delicate pink – as if lightly stained by sakura wine herself.
“The last time we drank together like this,” she mumbled, words slightly slurred, “a certain someone still refused to admit being Xie Wuyan…”
He uttered a low amused sound, toying idly with the clay vessel cradled in his hands.
After a spell his gaze grew distant, almost wistful. Tilting his head inquiringly, he whispered “…Of the two, which do you think is better? Zhu Zi’an, or Xie Wuyan?”
She blinked, nonplussed. “…Aren’t they one and the same?”
“Mm.” He nodded almost absently. “…Still. Who is better between them?”
Clearly he’s had one cup too many, she thought.
Since they were currently Zhu Zi’an and Little Man of the River… “Zhu Zi’an is my favorite,” she declared staunchly.
“Oh.” The neutral syllable revealed nothing of his thoughts.
She turned to study his profile, silver rivers of starlight leaving half his countenance awash in warmth while the other sat cloaked in darkness – thick lashes downcast hiding his gaze, sketching ragged shadows beneath high cheekbones.
Something in his voice hinted at…discontent?
“Is…is Xie Wuyan the one you prefer then?” she ventured hesitantly.
Another noncommittal “Mm,” still devoid of inflection.
He remained unhappy.
“Why must you compare yourself against yourself?” She couldn’t help a small laugh.
“Alright then.” His stern mouth relaxed as he drew her close, raining kisses over each eyelid.
“You’re both perfectly wonderful just as you are.”
The feather-light assault left her half dizzy with delight.
“So very dear to me…” she sighed, melting under his touch.
She tilted up her face toward him, silvered starlight streaming through the lattice windows and falling over his elegant features — so pure and arresting amidst the hush, as though they gave off a faint inner radiance.
“What were you thinking just now?” she murmured curiously.
He smoothed a hand over her wind-tousled hair. “I was suddenly wishing…if only you could remain as my Little Man of the River, and I your Zhu Zi’an…the two of us wandering the martial world without care, a trusty steed and wine flask as our companions…ah, what a fine carefree life that might have been.”
His gaze grew distant once more. “If only…I were no Crown Prince, and you no Princess. Just two perfectly ordinary people happening across one another amidst life’s endless mundane days and nights… Husband and wife, belonging only to each other. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”
Reaching up she began slowly, delicately retracing the same paths along his features where he had shifted her appearance earlier. Then she did the same to her own visage until both their disguises melted away, revealing their true selves plainly.
“Let’s play at being perfectly normal spouses today,” she suggested with sudden inspiration.
On that balmy summer night the air lay redolent with sweet olive. Crickets and cicadas filled the darkness with riotous clamor while frogs croaked a steady chorus near distant ponds. Cheeping swallows flitted between the branches of a loquat tree heavy with ripening gold.
In this tiny garret they whiled away the hours brewing wine, steeping fragrant tea, reading books by candlelight and sipping vintage vintages while conversing softly by the window… For this one stolen night lost to endless ruthless years, they clung fiercely to the simple domestic intimacy of ordinary life too oft denied by fate.
When midnight shadows crept across the floorboards they came together kiss by kiss, lost amidst gossamer starlight – heedless of past or future, of years or eternity.
Within the disused rear halls of the northern palace wing, a sharp ‘crack!’ split the silence as dust plumed where a large copper coin embed itself deeply into an ancient sandalwood table.
Eyes bloodshot and features mottled nearly purple with rage, Third Prince Xie Kuan slammed his palm down. “Locked away uselessly for months now while that meddlesome nuisance systematically dismantles my power base across the martial world! Utterly useless, those bungling idiots from South Pole Gang…it’s patently obvious that oh-so-esteemed Imperial Elder Brother’s cherished Willow Scholar is none other than my dear doting Crown Prince—”
He gave a vicious humorless bark. “Never anticipating his hidden identity in the martial world, I failed to take precautions. How I regret not seizing the chance to remove him when I could!”
With both hands tucked into opposing sleeves, the eunuch Supervisor Yu Zhao’en stood impassively aside. “I’ve received inside intelligence that our western armies will soon reach Song Prefecture. The Commissioner office is held by my Northern Branch…we stand ready to sabotage the campaign once opportunity presents itself. Concurrently, a hundred ministers will formally petition the throne to stand down the deployment.”
Voice pitched low, he intoned meaningfully: “When that moment comes, we must deny the Crown Prince any chance to speak.”
Xie Kuan glanced up sharply. “What wisdom might Elder Gong impart?”
“Unable to act within the palace walls, we can only arrange an ambush outside its grounds,” Yu Zhao’en intoned heavily. “Moreover, the court and martial world must mobilize concurrently — when assassinating the Crown Prince, we petition conjointly for military withdrawal.”
From his sleeves he withdrew a document, placing it before Xie Kuan atop the table. “Years past I had two palace eunuchs planted as spies in the Eastern Palace quarters, answering ostensibly to Noble Consort Xian while secretly reporting the Crown Prince’s movements to me. They were ousted after Prince Qi’s faction fell from the Crown Princess’s purge.”
“Yesterday I summoned them to the Imperial Residence. Their information revealed one rather intriguing detail…” His measured cadence continued, “The night of the Crown Prince’s wedding, they had followed Her Highness to a certain bookshop down an alley near Eastern Tower borough.”
Accepting the proffered diagram, Xie Kuan contemplated it at length before murmuring thoughtfully, “We lay our ambush for the killing there?”
Elder Gong’s bony knuckles rapped the table once. “A single chance is all we have.”
“Clearly.” A wide grin split Xie Kuan’s face. “I understand perfectly.”
Grasping a handful of coins, he tossed them violently onto the table six times in quick succession, cackling wildly at the resulting divination patterns.
“Next month shall run red without fail,” he declared, nearly quivering with anticipation. “The death knell tolling summer’s end… It will be delightful dirge indeed!”
Leave a Reply